


The Beast That Devours Itself

by albawrites



Series: Rebuilding the World [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Friendship/Love, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7184393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albawrites/pseuds/albawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a mission, Hanzo comes across two difficult realizations. In turn, he's encouraged to go on a more quiet task with a small group to continue his path to recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: Mature.  
> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement.  
> NOTE: When a chapter is specifically NSFW, it will be marked clearly and boldly. Otherwise, it's worth noting that this story takes place post-"Let Sleeping Dragons Lie", so there is a light sense of continuity. Although there is going to be a clearly defined relationship, it's equally worth noting that this story will focus on specific friendships as well.

" _Shimada, give me a status._ " Soldier 76 orders.

" _Which one?_ " Genji asks.

" _The grumpy one._ "

Hanzo wrinkles his nose before he draws one of his sonic arrows, letting it fire through the air just south of the targeted area that they're watching. After a moment, he responds: "It is secure thus far."

" _Let's rotate, people. You know what to do._ "

Which means, for the moment, Hanzo stays put until someone else takes his spot. In a few minutes, he'll expect McCree to show up and take his position before he moves out. For now, he remains aware, watching.

It's been two weeks since he'd been able to overcome the initial trigger of Talon's brainwashing attempt. Although Winston and Dr. Ziegler have been thorough with him so far, there has been no true indication as of yet that he can be promised a way to completely undo everything that they had done to him. He doesn't hold it against them; the both of them were incredibly apologetic, but truly Hanzo cannot bear it against them. They have done everything to flush the effects of the serums away, but beyond that, he doesn't know what'll happen if the trigger phrase is implemented again. 

They're so confident that he'll beat it again. Hanzo doesn't have their optimism entirely.

Since then, Lucio had been able to debug their communication system completely and reformat it with Winston's help to give it better security. The pair of them, last Hanzo heard, were still in development of brand new communicators entirely to replace the old set to help minimize the possibility of being compromised again.

They've moved from London to America. Manhattan, specifically. Overwatch's intelligence gained word of a new EMP device, which has a mix of unfortunate political feelings, considering the omnics. At the moment, the only intent was to be sure no one would try to steal or activate it.

Hanzo catches the familiar scent of one of McCree's cigars and listens to the spurs of his boots. "You are too easy to detect," he says, rolling his eyes to himself.

"Yeah, well, could be I wanted you know I was comin'. Don't fancy an arrow in my face." McCree chuckles. "Feel good to be back on the field?"

"It is what I know." Honestly, Hanzo isn't certain that he should be, but he'd been given the clear from Dr. Ziegler which was more than enough for Soldier 76. But if he hadn't been, Hanzo probably would have just felt useless. 

He stands from his crouch and turns around, ready to head off, but pauses when he feels McCree's hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Han. Fancy a movie when we're all done?"

Hanzo considers. Ever since the incident, it seems like McCree has significantly warmed up to him. He's odd, arrogant, and ridiculous, but also clever, well-trained, and incredibly skilled. Some of the others have called him charming, but Hanzo isn't sure he really understands that assessment yet. 

"Is it an Eastwood film again?" Hanzo asks flatly.

"Hey, nothin' wrong with Clint here an' there, but if you're gonna fuss, we can do somethin' else. You got somethin' in mind?"

"I have not watched many films."

McCree laughs quietly. "You're killin' me here. Well, if it's a yes, we'll figure somethin' out."

Hanzo considers, then says, "Very well." There was no reason to say no, and he's liked some of the films McCree has decided to watch with him. Not all of them really suit him, but he understands that it's often everyone's way of easy socializing. 

"All right. I'll bring the drinks. You like plum wine, right?"

That surprises him. Hanzo squints at him. "How--" _Hm._ "Genji."

"Genji," McCree confirms, grinning. "Figured you weren't gonna say, so I asked."

Soldier 76 snaps at the both of them: " _Are you two done chatting? Move it, Hanzo._ "

Hanzo flattens his lips into a line, irritated. He glances at McCree and says sternly, "Next time, you should just ask me. ... But yes, plum wine."

"Later then, Han." With a tip of McCree's hat, he turns and takes Hanzo's former position.

Leaving the rooftop takes no effort from him; scaling up and down the sides of buildings is just child's play at this point in his life, as it has been something he's done for the past several years since he'd been originally trained as a teenager. When he lands on the concrete below, Hanzo pauses and looks out to the street, watching the several loading trucks at are parked as men prepare to load the EMP device for travel. They are armed, but they are still easy to surprise.

It's been quiet thus far, but Hanzo knows better than to expect it to remain quiet. All of them do.

As he heads to his next spot.

" _This is so boring_ ," he hears Hana grumble in their communicator. " _I knew I should've brought my GB Touch._ "

" _You get that shiny Stalagmight yet?_ " Lucio asks. " _I know you've been workin' on that._ "

" _Yeah, but the stats were awful, so forget it. You want it, Lucio?_ "

" _Sure. I love the color scheme. The pastels are excellent._ "

Hanzo has no idea what they're talking about. Yet another video game, but from the sounds of it he can at least interpret that they're enjoying their conversation. That's all that really matters. He checks the corner of a street before he slips into the shadows again, still working on getting to his station.

" _I haven't played that game in ages. I wonder how many new monsters there are to catch_ ," Genji muses.

He shakes his head, his lips twitching. Of course Genji would know what they're talking about.

" _I can show you when we're back. Pretty sure I have an old GB Touch you can take. When the XXL came out, I just started using that_ ," Hana offers.

Genji chuckles. " _I'll consider it._ "

" _Eyes on the prize, then you can play your games when we're back in the safehouse,_ " Soldier 76 grumbles. " _I can't believe they still make that game..._ "

" _You know what it is? Hanzo didn't even know--_ " Hana starts.

"I said I didn't play the video games," Hanzo mutters finally, starting to scale a wall.

" _Everyone knows what Pokemon is! **Soldier** knows. Reinhardt knows!_ "

" _It's hard to be a little sympathetic when even Winston had an N64 on the moon. Sorry, Hanzo,_ " Lucio says, in a way that he's not sorry at all and Hanzo can _definitely_ hear him smiling. It's teasing, he knows it is, but Hanzo still snorts to himself.

" _First Star Wars, now Nintendo. You're somethin' else, Han._ " McCree is laughing, and Hanzo feels his ears burn a little. He doesn't want to examine why.

There's a pause before he hears Soldier muse, " _Hell, I had one._ "

Hanzo lets out a huff. "My first thought upon joining Overwatch was not about debating whether or not I'd have any experience playing video games. Yet, here we are."

" _Life has many unusual paths, brother_ ," Genji says, his voice sounding tight in a way that Hanzo can tell he's trying not to laugh.

When he makes it to the top of the roof he's meant to be in position on, Hanzo has a better view of the trucks from here. The EMP device is starting to be moved, slowly but in their minds securely. Hanzo shakes his head and crouches again, watching them.

" _I've got something east here. D.Va, cover me. Rest of you, stay alert,_ " Soldier 76 orders.

It could be any number of people that might be invested in the EMP device, and any amount of numbers. The discourse between omnic and man is worldwide, and the feelings are even within Overwatch itself with various members. Anyone, truly, could want it for one reason or another. Hanzo frowns and keeps his senses aware and sharp.

The minutes drag on by. In the distance, he hears gunfire, familiar from Soldier 76's rifle. Hanzo watches security below look nervous. Fear makes for an easy target. Poor choices for the job.

Then, something does get his attention. A familiar scent in the air, impossible for him to mistake. For a moment, his mind jumps back in time, remembering Reaper and his voice--

Hanzo shakes his head and stands up, trying to spot where he is.

" _Hey, I have some trouble on my tail and it's called Reaper!_ " Lucio calls out.

Down below, he can see the familiar lights from Lucio as he skates by, his music trailing after him -- that, and the black smoke from Reaper. Abrupt and forceful rage consumes Hanzo, his heart burning, remembering all too clearly how Reaper triggered him into trying to kill Genji, and what he and Talon did to him. Hanzo grits his teeth and goes to follow, leaping to another rooftop before he's firing an arrow down at Reaper, catching him by the arm.

"Lucio, go!" Hanzo snaps at him. "I have him!"

Despite his order, Lucio frowns and doesn't seem as if he's going to obey, which frustrates Hanzo but he doesn't have the time to tell him again. Reaper is chuckling, raising one of his guns. "Shimada, it's been too long."

"You are correct. I owe you _much_ for what you have done!" Hanzo snarls, firing another arrow.

Although it strikes Reaper dead in his chest, it only seems to make him pause for a moment, grunting in clear pain. Hanzo launches himself down, planting the metal bottom of his boots against the side of the wall as he slides down without much effort. He ducks down, quick to dodge the shotgun that fires at him from Reaper.

"That old man's gotta be out of his mind if he decided to keep you around. You're a ticking time bomb," Reapear says with a laugh.

Enraged and unwilling to debate the topic further, Hanzo draws another arrow, aiming at Reaper with a growl before shouting: " **Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!** "

It's quiet a moment, tense; there is no glow from his tattoo. No dragons. There is nothing, to Hanzo's absolute horror.

Reaper lets out a chuckle. "Don't feel too bad, Shimada. Everyone hits a dry spell."

With an angry yell, Hanzo releases his arrow anyway. This time, Reaper manages to evade it, making an amused grunt before he's going in with both shotguns. Hanzo is preparing another arrow, ducking down behind a dumpster to give himself some cover.

The music from Lucio increases, thankfully. It _does_ energize him, even if he's frustrated that Lucio didn't listen to him. He peers around the corner and releases another arrow at Reaper. It does catch him in his thigh, but the unkillable gunman is tearing it out regardless with a pained grunt before he's marching forward.

"I wouldn't go too far, _compadre_ ; you're surrounded."

McCree's voice is impossible to miss, and he sounds surly. For what reason, he isn't entirely certain, but Hanzo feels mildly irritated that he's here right now. Still, he rises from his cover, preparing another arrow as McCree approaches from behind with his Peacekeeper. Over the gunman's shoulder is Lucio, prepared to support them.

For a moment, Reapear seems to consider his options, glancing briefly over at McCree before back to Hanzo. "Remember what I said, Shimada. **Let sleeping dragons lie.** "

The last time Hanzo had been triggered, he'd felt his entire body tense up before he was simply reacting, like he was living in a memory of ten years ago, trying to find and confront Genji. This time, there's a splitting headache, enough that he lets out a howl of pain and he clutches his head as he drops his bow. Distantly, he thinks he hears McCree curse. Hanzo can't see what's happening, blinded by the amount of pressure in his skull that's pounding away.

He digs his fingers into his scalp. It's almost tempting to claw away to try to get at whatever is _hurting him._

"Hanzo! _Hey!_ " There are hands on his shoulders.

Gradually, the pain starts to fade, and he hears different music from Lucio, his healing soundtrack. It isn't quite a doctor's touch, but it keeps him on his feet. When his senses start to return to him, he looks up at McCree, who's frowning. Is he concerned?

Hanzo's throat tightens and he jerks away from McCree's hands suddenly, feeling his stomach twist uncomfortably. With a shaking hand, he touches his forehead. "Reaper," is all he says.

"Ran off when you started reacting," Lucio says gently. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine." He isn't.

"That so? You got some blood runnin' from your nose, Han," McCree points out.

Hesitantly, Hanzo touches under his nostrils, drawing his fingers away and glancing down. Wet, bright red; he was bleeding?

"Your dragons didn't show up either. I know you know that, but what's that mean for you?" Lucio asks, concern weighing heavily in his voice.

Hanzo tenses, then closes his eyes. "I do not know," he confesses.

 

-=-=-

 

Despite the entire affair with Reaper being a damned mess, the mission went well. Between Hana and Morrison, the remaining Talon agents were dealt with or they dispersed while Genji ensured from the shadows that the EMP device was secured. Nothing was lost, nothing visible anyhow. It didn't sit well with McCree with what happened with Hanzo, but that's not really even his fault this round far as he can tell. The whole brainwashing thing is a mess anyway, and when Reaper tried to trigger him it didn't even go right. Enough that something happened that distracted Lucio and McCree so he could get away, but something is up.

And the dragons thing. That's probably not good news.

Hanzo's completely silent on the way back to their closest safehouse. Although he's not thrilled about it, McCree's kept everyone else in the loop via their communicators. 

Which means two things happen: when Soldier 76 comes in, he's obviously annoyed.

"What the hell happened, Shimada?" he demands at first.

Hanzo glances up, frowning, but says nothing. Maybe he doesn't know what to say. Hell, he didn't seem sure before when Lucio had asked him.

"It's what I said before, old man." McCree shrugs. "Reaper tried his code phrase trick. Didn't exactly take, but it did somethin'."

"And, uh. His dragons aren't working," Lucio offers.

"Right, that."

There's a low grunt from Hanzo.

The second thing that happens is when Genji emerges, he's trying to show some restraint when approaching his brother, aware of Hanzo's anger and trying not to add fuel to the flames. They're doing better, far as McCree can tell, but it's sure as hell far from perfect. Not horrible, considering one tried to kill the other some odd years ago.

Genji pauses, then asks, "Brother?"

Wordlessly, Hanzo peers up to look at him.

"Are you...?"

"I do not know," Hanzo mutters, looking down at his tattoo.

"Genji, I never asked because it was never a concern before. When they stop responding, what's it mean?" Soldier asks, folding his arms.

"Truthfully, I do not know. We have been able to summon them ever since we earned them," Genji answers, not taking his gaze away from Hanzo. "If they are not answering... Perhaps there is discourse from within. Perhaps the effects from Talon runs deeper than anticipated?"

Hanzo looks down at his bare hand for a moment, then shakes his head angrily before he's stepping away.

"We still need to get this sorted out," Soldier snaps at him.

"You have heard them. They do not answer. I do not know why. And Talon can still affect me in some way." Hanzo looks over his shoulder coldly at Soldier. "You act as if you are in charge, but I do not answer to you."

As Jack starts forward, Genji catches him by the arm. "Go on, Hanzo," Genji tells him quietly. "We will find a way to help you."

For a moment, McCree can see something in Hanzo's eyes that doesn't suit him. Usually, he looks incredibly fierce, proud, and rigid. At the moment, he almost looks _defeated_ before he simply nods and takes his leave, heading further into the safehouse, undoubtedly to return to solitude.

"So, what's the plan?" McCree shrugs. "Mission completed, but this is lookin' like a big deal right now."

Genji hesitates a moment before he releases Jack's arm. "My brother and I have only just begun to bridge the gap between us. That is ten years missing. Beyond that, there is much that Hanzo is tormented with, even beyond the subject of me. I've had time to make peace. He's barely started."

"What you're saying is that it sounds like he needs some R&R," Lucio suggests.

"Something like that. Though he would not take well to the idea."

No, of course he wouldn't. From what McCree has observed, Hanzo is the kind of person whose mind is always busy, whether it's surviving or keeping himself distracted in terms of work. While he doesn't think that his initial judgment of Hanzo was baseless, he has admitted to himself that there's more than just the bastard who had nearly murdered Genji, and really Jesse ought to have known anyway. Life's not that simple, and there are layers to the situation, and it's certainly clear how much regret and anger Hanzo harbors.

His mind backtracks. What did Genji mean beyond the subject of him? 

"We'll get it figured out. Genji, with me; I want to hear any ideas you might have." Soldier nods to the rest of the group. "Rest of you, dismissed."

Before McCree can leave, Genji calls out, "Jesse. Before you go."

"Yeah?" He looks over his shoulder.

"If you're going to find my brother." Genji pauses, then says, "Be patient with him."

"Eh, you know me. Hard to take anythin' personally."

"That is not entirely what I mean." Genji tilts his head, then turns to leave with Soldier.

For a moment, McCree wants to ask for more details, but he knows that Genji respects his brother too much to say, somehow. Funny, considering things, but he's not going to give either of them guff for it. Instead, he adjusts his hat and steps further into the safehouse.

Albeit he doesn't know Hanzo nearly as well as Genji, he has enough of an idea of what to look for when he decides to be moody. After checking his temporary room for kicks to see if he's brooding like a practical man, McCree goes to the next best place. The attic is dusty as hell, full of nothing but forgotten boxes of ditched tech and projects by previous members of Overwatch. No one has any real reason to be here, but the smuges in the dust tell McCree that someone, at least, has been here recently, and he expects he knows who.

Hauling himself inside, McCree claps his hands together to shake off the dirt before he's glancing in the dark of the attic. "Han?" he calls out.

There's a moment of silence before a familiar annoyed sigh emits. "What do you want?"

"Well, a bottle of bourbon'd be nice 'bout now." Following the sound of Hanzo's voice, he eventually locates the archer sulking by the single window in the attic, crouched and frowning. McCree nudges a box over with a foot before he sits down. "Sounds pretty rough, what's goin' on."

There's a period of silence that lingers in the air before Hanzo decides to answer. In what little light there is, McCree can see him frowning before his brows knit and he looks more tired than angry.

Finally, he says, "I have always... been able to summon the dragons."

"Genji figures somethin' is twisted up inside of you makin' it impossible."

"Or I am simply more broken than I originally thought," Hanzo mutters bitterly. There's a soft hiss before he adds, "My apologies. I--"

"Hey." McCree shrugs. "It's fine. I'm here in case y'felt like talkin', so... y'know. Talk to me."

"Hm." Hanzo looks back out the window. "It is as I said. I am-- something is wrong with me, or perhaps the dragons no longer find me worthy. Either matter brings me no comfort."

There's a low chuckle from McCree. "Look, I ain't nearly close to an expert on this mystical dragon business, but I figure if the dragons thought now was a good time to stop listening, then they got their priorities in a mess. Things're far from perfect, but you're working on hashin' things out with Genji. That's not _bad_ , Han. And the code phrase shit ain't your fault. You're off your game, an' we'll find a way of puttin' it right."

That makes Hanzo scoff, his face turning to look at McCree. It's been taking a bit to adjust to the dim light, but he can make out Hanzo's face better now: brows are knitted, concerned, angry as he usually is, and his lips are pursed in thought. Reading him is a damned pain in the ass, but this entire thing is something he's clearly taking personally.

"What do you want?" Hanzo asks suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"Lately you have been..." Hanzo pauses, struggling with his words for a moment. "You want to be around me. You are worried for me. You, who was so clearly disapproving of me before."

"Thought I made myself clear." No, he hasn't been entirely straightforward, but hell if he's going to tackle that subject right now. "I can respect a man who owns up to his mistakes. Respect a man more who works to make 'em right."

"Hm." The sound Hanzo makes is less than satisfied with the answer, but he shrugs and seems to accept it for now. "What do they intend to do with me?"

"Don't know right yet. Figure that Genji, Soldier, and Mercy will put their heads together and figure out somethin'. In any case, ain't like we're gonna kick you jus' 'cuz your dragons are being finicky and Talon's playing with your head. You're Overwatch now. Means we're lookin' out for you."

That seems to make Hanzo go quiet, thinking to himself. If it hadn't been apparent before with how everyone had been eager to ensure his comfort when he'd been stuck inside a damned glass cell, it should be obvious now. No one is eager to throw Hanzo away anytime soon.

"Thank you, McCree," Hanzo says finally.

"S'nothin'," the gunman assures with a grin.

" _Shimada. Come down. We're sorting out next assignments,_ " Soldier calls out on their communicator. " _From Winston, if you're so concerned about whose orders to follow._ "

McCree manages to not laugh when he sees Hanzo's nose wrinkle. The archer stands, then pauses when he looks at the other man. "Would you be willing to come with me?" he asks, in a way that seems like Hanzo isn't certain he should be requesting it. 

"No problem, Han. Right behind ya."

 

-=-=-

 

At first, Hanzo isn't certain if he's relieved or not that he's been assigned again. They'd managed to succeed the last mission, but he still knows that there are multiple things wrong with him. He wonders if he should disagree with their assessment or not.

He arrives in the hangar, seeing that Soldier, Genji, and Winston have gathered. Warily, Hanzo approaches, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Hanzo," Winston greets him, just as pleasant as ever. "I'd heard what happened. Try to not worry about it too much."

Hanzo just frowns. That's a tall order, not that he doesn't appreciate the ape's kindness. All he can do is nod.

"Mei-Ling is headed out in 12 hours to work on reactivating some of our old climate study sites. Overwatch worked on a lot of projects in the past to protect this planet, and ensuring our climate was stable is one of them," Soldier 76 says. "Communications need to be arranged and the equipment is outdated in northern California. With that in mind, you're going to be accompanying her, Tracer, Zenyatta, and Winston."

Sudden anger rises in his chest, and Hanzo frowns deeply. "You are sending me away to ensure I am not a danger to any of you."

"Brother, you are going to ensure that Winston and Mei-Ling are safe while they work. And Zenyatta will be there to help you with what troubles you inside," Genji elaborates.

"I did not ask you to interfere!" Hanzo snaps. 

There is a pause of silence between everyone. Hanzo feels the familiar weight of McCree's robotic hand on his shoulder. He almost shrugs it off, but he does not despite his better judgment. With an angry sigh, Hanzo says, "My apologies."

"I should have consulted with you first," Genji concedes quietly. "But he wants to help you, Hanzo. Let him try."

"Well, I know this has all been decided an' such," McCree wedges into the conversation. "But if there's room for another, wouldn't mind goin' with."

That earns a smile from Winston. "It'd be nice to have you along, Jesse. Hanzo?"

Hanzo glances up at him briefly, then turns his head away sharply. "...Do what you'd like," he mutters, not inclined to turn him away. His stomach churns. He should say no.

"Good deal." McCree pats his shoulder before letting go.

"Then we'll meet back here in 12 hours before we head out to California." Winston smiles pleasantly. "Hanzo, I know this might feel like a punishment. It isn't. We're hoping this will help whatever it is you're going through."

"I understand that you have good intentions, Winston," Hanzo responds, his voice quiet. "I will meet you here. Please, excuse me."

He turns around sharply, heading out of the hangar. No matter how quiet his brother is, Hanzo can immediately hear Genji hurrying to follow him. It's barely a few feet down the hallway from everyone else before the archer is sighing and turning around to look at him.

" _Anija_ ," Genji calls out.

"If this is for me, then I am surprised you are not coming with me." Hanzo almost wishes he would.

"You and I have more than enough time to continue to rebuild together. But I cannot be your only source for healing." Genji touches his wrist, and Hanzo does not pull away, quietly allowing the contact. "I encourage you to try to cooperate with my master, and let the others in. At your own pace, but let them. They are good people."

Hanzo frowns and looks away. "I am... trying."

"I understand how much our family meant in the past to you. You can have another, just as I have."

A bitter flavor rises in his throat, and Hanzo wants to demand how easy it'd been for Genji to replace everything. However, he knows it wasn't that simple; these people took him in, accepted him, and Genji grew _so much_ with them. Genji found a place to be after it was Hanzo who destroyed him and the shattered remains of their clan.

And all Genji wants of him now is to be part of it.

Briefly, he thinks back to Winston, how easily the scientist said he was part of this... _family._ How much everyone did their best to include him and ensure he was cared for. It's not so simple for Hanzo to just let everyone in, but he _is_ trying. 

All he can do is continue to try.

"We will see," Hanzo says, turning his hand to take Genji's.

"I am glad to hear it. For now, I have a new mission with Soldier, Hana, and Lucio. You can always call for me, brother."

 

-=-=-

 

It didn't take long for him to pack what few belongings he has. Just enough, McCree figures, for them to get comfortable on this pseudo-camping trip. Time to spend out in the wilderness doesn't seem all that bad, and a bit of a breather is going to be welcome for just about all of them. 

He waits to board the carrier, watching Hanzo and Genji look at each other quietly. Their good-bye is mostly silence, but it doesn't have the same kind of uncomfortable chill like they had a month ago. If this is what works for them, then good for them. 

Finally, Hanzo nods to his younger brother before he steps into the carrier.

"See y'later, Genji," McCree says casually.

"Jesse." Genji catches him by the wrist. "Just bear in mind. I do not disapprove of what you are doing. But it is as I said before: be patient with him. Hanzo... has given himself several reasons to punish himself. If this is the path you choose, you must bear that in mind."

McCree raises a brow at him. "An' what path might that be?"

"You think I do not know?" Genji says wryly. "I encourage what you are doing, actually. And one other thing: if he is being terse with you, you are not doing anything wrong. That is all."

"Jesse, carrier's gonna go in a few minutes, love!" Tracer calls out from the carrier's open doors. "C'mon now!"

"Be safe," Genji says.

"Yeah, you too." McCree gives a friendly swat to Genji's shoulder before he steps onto their mode of transport.


	2. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In two instances, Hanzo remembers to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RATING: Mature.  
> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement.  
> NOTE: When a chapter is specifically NSFW, it will be marked clearly and boldly. Otherwise, it's worth noting that this story takes place post-"Let Sleeping Dragons Lie", so there is a light sense of continuity. Although there is going to be a clearly defined relationship, it's equally worth noting that this story will focus on specific friendships as well.

After the carrier had dropped them off outside of the climate study site, it was a matter of walking the rest of the way. Specifically, the site was located in the thick of what was left of the red wood forest in northern California: still thick, with a few civilian campsites, but one Overwatch site generally abandoned and forgotten. The hike itself hadn't been so bad, but upon arrival, it was immediately clear how much work is ahead all of them.

The cabin that's been left for temporary stay is in disrepair after years of negligence, forgotten in the history of Overwatch's disband sometime ago. The shed doesn't look much better, and when Winston and Mei-ling look inside at the equipment, Winston can only offer a cough and Mei-ling a warily optimistic smile.

"Well, there's not going to be any shortage of things to do," Mei-ling points out.

Zipping out of the cabin, Tracer is dusting her hands off and letting out a low whistle. "Things are lookin' a little down in there too. Tried turnin' on the sinks and shower, didn't get much other than sludge."

That causes Hanzo to raise a brow. "There is no shower or bath."

"Not lookin' like it, no. Sorry, love." Tracer smiles apologetically, shrugging. "Not til it's all fixed and that might not be until tomorrow."

"Hm." Hanzo's eyes narrow and he looks away, observing the immediate area until his eyes stops at an old wooden fence that'd been left behind. "Am I required to do anything at this time?"

Winston looks thoughtful a moment. "No, not that I can think of."

"Then I will be preoccupied for the next few hours." Hanzo immediately walks away from the rest of the group, heading toward the fence.

"Not immediately warmin' up to socializing, is he?" Tracer notices, shrugging a little. "Guess he's gone through a lot. Isn't he supposed to meditate or somethin' with you, Zenyatta?"

"It's best that he settles into his surroundings first. If he finds some form of comfort in working while he does that, I welcome him to it," Zenyatta tells her. "In time, I will work with him. Right now, I could hardly expect him to."

It's a fair enough assessment from the way McCree can figure. From his observations, Hanzo is very much a man focused on keeping his hands busy, keeping his mind on a job or some form of work. Even in their downtime, he still didn't seem to favor much in the way of casual activities even if he allowed himself more recently to be coaxed into them. At this point, McCree is getting the feeling it's a learned behavior, stemmed from what exactly he's not entirely certain of.

Be patient with him. Right. That was about all the advice Genji could offer.

Whatever Hanzo is working on, he's generally intent on doing it on his own, tearing down the wooden fence pickets. In the meanwhile, the first task for everyone else has been to clear out the cabin and attempt to make it livable again. Just about all of food had been thrown away, and the interior's a bit of a wreck. McCree could see where several animals had broken in and made themselves comfortable for a time, and had to challenge himself in chasing off a possum family with Tracer giggling in the background.

They did count on the cabin being unfortunate, at least; Zenyatta has been helping Mei-ling clear the area to at least manage camping, while Winston promised he would take a look at the generators in order to get them running power eventually.

One hour in since their arrival, and McCree takes a moment to lean against the creaking railing of the cabin to light a cigar. He catches Hanzo out of the corner of his eye, focusing on his own task, having sanded off several of the pickets and is working on the last few. At some point, he'd shrugged off the other sleeve of his yukata, leaving him bare chested, a glimmer of sweat on his skin.

McCree puffs on his cigar thoughtfully a moment, just observing before he decides to make conversation.

"The hell you workin' on anyhow, Han?" he calls out.

"The bath issue," Hanzo responds without pause, dusting off the last bit of work on sanding the wood in his hands.

"Uh-huh." McCree raises a brow. "Winston ain't even touched the plumbing yet. How'd you figure you're gonna..."

He trails off a moment, just watching Hanzo begin to arrange the pickets in a very specific way. For a moment, he isn't certain what he's watching exactly, not until it's clear that they're being placed in a circular shape.

Then it clicks. 

"You're makin' a damned tub," McCree concludes, scratching his head.

"I refuse to not bathe," Hanzo grumbles as he works.

That makes the gunman laugh, shaking his head. "Well well, I ain't ever pegged you for the vain type."

"It is not vanity, it--" Hanzo hisses and pulls his hand away suddenly, frowning as he peers at his fingers. "I just do not like being unclean."

"Splinter?" McCree asks, approaching, keeping his cigar clenched in his teeth.

A snort is delivered in response. "It is nothing," Hanzo answers, prepared to get back to work.

"Hey now, none of that. Lemme see." When McCree reaches for Hanzo's hand, the archer's first reaction is to just pull his limb away sharply, as if burned. A split second of silence, and Hanzo looks almost embarrassed. No, more ashamed. Hesitantly, the hand is offered to him and McCree takes it, not bothering the shorter man with questions or teasing, and simply looks at his finger, spotting the splinter. "Sneaky bastard."

A pair of tweezers are pulled out of his pocket. It doesn't take much work, but McCree tugs out the sliver of wood with Hanzo being patient with him. The gunman sports a lop-sided grin, rolling his thumb over Hanzo's wrist. "There y'go."

There's a strange look in Hanzo's eyes, his brows knitted. Suddenly, the ninja is pulling his hand away and he's turning back to his project. "Thank you," Hanzo says stiffly.

Not the warmest of reactions. _Be patient_ , he remembers Genji telling him, _knowing._

"You want a hand?" McCree asks.

Over his shoulder, Hanzo peers at him, as if he's evaluating McCree in some way. After exhaling sharply through his nose, he looks away again and says, "If you wish."

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't interested, Han. Whaddaya need me to do?"

There's a moment of consideration before Hanzo gestures aside. "We'll need water. I have asked Winston to bring out containers for us to use. You will fill them. There is a stream north of here, not far. I have the path marked."

"Well, you certainly thought this out extensively," McCree muses, taking the buckets.

"As I said," Hanzo mutters. "I do not like being unclean."

 

-=-=-

 

Eventually, the others got word of what Hanzo had been working on, and it became an investment for most of them. To Hanzo this only makes sense since he wouldn't be able to comprehend how they'd like to go a time without being able to bathe. As previously stated, Winston had been helpful in bringing out enormous plastic barrels for McCree to fill the water with while Mei-ling set to working on filtering the water. Although Zenyatta has no need to partake in bathing, he'd apparently set about arranging a simple curtain for basic privacy for whenever the time had come for the bath to be prepared.

Once the tub was finished being constructed, Hanzo chose to not wait long before moving onto his next personal task. 

"What'cha up to now?" he hears Tracer pipe up behind him.

Hanzo peers at her before turning away. "Fishing."

"Smashing! I'll go along." Before Hanzo can tell her that's not necessary, Tracer calls over her shoulder with, "Be back in a few, big guy! Hanzo and I are gonna fish!" After seeing Winston wave in response, she merrily slides into step next to him.

He sighs quietly. Although his initial reaction is to insist he can go alone, he recalls that Genji told him to try to interact with them. That somehow, it will help him. They are not all unpleasant, but after years on his own it feels almost foreign to constantly be around people.

And for people to want to be around him.

"Didn't take you for the fishin' type, y'know," Tracer says, sounding amused as they travel up the stream.

"Hm," Hanzo hums in response initially. After a moment of hesitation, he responds more openly with, "It is the closest that I can do to meditating right now."

"I'm sure Zenyatta's happy t'help," Tracer points out.

Hanzo frowns and says sharply, "I do not _want_ his help!"

Just as soon as the words are spoken and his tone cuts the air to cold silence, Hanzo recognizes his own small outburst. It was an innocent suggestion and he knows that Tracer is far from anyone meaning to cause harm. He glances over his shoulder, watching her concerned face.

"Sorry," Hanzo says quietly.

"No worries," Tracer answers, smiling gently. "Can I ask why y'don't?"

No response is given immediately. First, Hanzo is glancing around the area first, determining where he wants to be for this. The stream up here is wider, calmer, more like a river, more promising for fish. After dusting off a rock, he sits and prepares his fishing pole.

After watching the line sink into the water, he finally answers.

"The last time I meditated with Zenyatta, it brought about difficult knowledge about what Talon wanted of me. What they did to me." Hanzo narrows his eyes. "That isn't his fault. I know that Zenyatta wishes to help me, but it's difficult to be around him for many reasons."

Tracer sits down next to him, pulling her legs up to herself. Her gaze is attentive, her face full of emotion. How she bears herself so honestly and so openly and never gets tired of it, he doesn't know. "You broke out of their hold on you, though. That's amazing," Tracer compliments sincerely.

"They merely didn't finish what they started."

"I don't think you're givin' yourself enough credit. Might be true that they didn't finish up on you, but you're not weak either." Tracer smiles. "I know Widowmaker didn't get that chance."

"Soldier said she was someone else once. Amelie, I think."

"I know who she was," Tracer says, her smile fading into something more mournful. "I knew her real well. Sweet as could be, both her and Gerard."

This is treading into something more personal. Hanzo almost feels like he flounders for a moment. Does she want him to ask for more? Does he really want to know more about Widowmaker? It was her that was leading the brainwashing affects on him. That's not something he thinks he should bring up.

Hesitantly, he asks, "What was she like?"

"Oh hell, she was so smart." Tracer's smile looks more grief-stricken as she remembers. "And kind. Didn't mean she couldn't kick your ass if she had to, of course. But I really admired her. I really--" There's a sigh and her shoulders slump. "I really, really loved her."

Hanzo feels his grip tighten on the fishing pole. "She was married, I thought."

"Of course she was. They were open 'bout sharing with me is all. Well, mostly Amelie and me. I really respected Gerard, but I loved Amelie. She loved us both." Tracer laughs a little. "It was good. We had a good thing. But then Talon-- they really buggered us. They made her kill Gerard, and then I lost her. Lost her for good. God knows I tried to get her to come back to me, but she's different now. She's not Amelie. It still really tears me up knowin' she's out there, molded into this... this _thing._ And I guess, well, I'm just real happy for you and Genji, love. That you broke out of that before Talon twisted you into somethin' awful."

"Am I not already?" Hanzo mutters, closing his eyes.

"Hanzo." He feels her hand rest on his arm. "I don't know how things rolled into makin' you think you had to kill your own brother. An' I'm not gonna ask, since I figure that's too close t'home right now for you to say. But you're tryin', really tryin' to make up for it. We want you here. And I promise you, Talon would have made you somethin' twenty times worse than what you think you are now."

"You do not begrudge me for overcoming what Amelie could not? Even if our circumstances were not precisely the same."

"Not at all. Meant it when I said I was happy for ya." Tracer lets out a laugh.

"Mm." Hanzo opens his eyes and gazes at the water.

It's quiet for a moment like this, the sound of the water running. He hears Tracer shuffle, sitting close enough that their hips bump, making her friendliness completely evident. Despite everything she's dealt with, everything she has witnessed, Tracer remains ever cheerful, ever energetic in spite of her losses.

He's a little envious.

"If I may ask..." Hanzo trails off.

"Anything y'want, love," Tracer assures.

Hanzo frowns to himself, uncertain if he should say. "No one thought it was... odd or unnatural, what you, Amelie, and Gerard chose to do? How you allowed yourself to live?"

"You mean with me liking boys and _girls_?" Tracer asks teasingly. "Nope, no one cared. It was our lives. It was what made all three of us happy."

The strike of envy sinks harder into his heart, and he struggles to swallow it away.

"Is that a difficult thing where you're from? How people live and how they like each other? Never went to Japan much, so I don't rightly know," Tracer admits.

"My family specifically was very, very traditional in certain ways." Hanzo lets out a difficult sigh. "Forgive me, this is not something I am prepared to discuss right at the moment."

"No worries." Tracer loops her arms around one of his, in a strange little embrace that he doesn't know how to process. She is _very_ touchy, and it's bizarre to him. Not unlikable, but very unusual. "Ol' Tracer is ready to chat whenever y'want, or if you don't."

Hanzo looks down at her, then back to the water with a small twitch of his lips. "Thank you."

"Ah! Hey!" Tracer points at him, grinning broadly. "Was that a smile I just saw?!"

"Don't be absurd." Hanzo turns his head away sharply, refusing to face her.

"Now you're hidin' it! C'mon, you! Lemme see your face!" Tracer tugs on his sleeve with a laugh.

Despite however much he tries to struggle away while keeping his pole relatively undisturbed, Tracer does get a glimpse of his face. Hanzo _did_ try to keep his face straight, but it'd been a little hard to not smile a little at her ridiculous determination to see his face.

She pauses, then giggles to herself. "Well now, there it is! You're a real looker when you got a smile on, love. Ought to do it more often."

 

-=-=-

 

Enough fish was caught for those who needed to eat. Upon returning, Tracer is already dashing away to chat with Mei-ling, who in turn stammers and attempts to keep up with how energetic Tracer is. An impossible feat, but Hanzo almost respects the environmentalist for trying. 

Hanzo himself is settling by the campfire with his catches, hanging up what he has before he gets to work on gutting them.

"Welcome back!" Winston greets warmly. "We have the tubs filled, and Mei-ling and I were able to arrange a heater under the tub, so it'll be ready for whoever wants to use it. It can be drained and refilled easily enough."

Hesitantly, Hanzo's eyes glance up to the ape. Winston has always been kind to him, especially through the difficulties of what Talon had done to him, and definitely went out of his way to ensure that the archer felt welcomed. _Family_ , he even said.

A concept that he still cannot quite digest.

"Thank you," Hanzo says finally. "I did not mean to distract you from what you came here to do."

"Oh, not a worry. Honestly, it was kind of a nice break from everything else." Winston smiles wryly. "How have you been feeling?"

"If difficult were an emotion," Hanzo mutters, taking to skinning the fish.

"I can only imagine. For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here."

There are few times in which Hanzo has ever been clumsy with a blade, and he nearly cuts himself upon hearing those words. People being glad for his presence still doesn't sound right. Hanzo glances up through his bangs, then just nods. Winston's kindness would only wane if Tracer somehow ran out of energy, he figures.

"Winston," Hanzo says, thinking.

"Hm?"

Hanzo sets aside the trout before moving onto the next. "Your first name is not Harold."

"I-- no. It isn't." Winston frowns a little. "What brought that on?"

"The books you gave me were listed under _Harold Winston._ At first I thought I simply somehow missed your name, but I checked the dossier again. You are just Winston. Who is Harold?"

The smile that forms on the scientist's face is an expression Hanzo can understand: bittersweet, wistful, and regretful. "My father. Well, sort of my father. He raised me. Who knows who my actual father was? Probably some gorilla out in a zoo or a jungle somewhere."

Adoptive, then. It was no wonder that Winston adapted to Overwatch as well as he did, and held on so strongly. If Harold and Overwatch have been the only family he's ever known, it's not surprising that he's done his best to be inclusive to every new member, how _much_ that must mean to him. How much it means for everyone to be here, even someone like Hanzo. The archer almost snorts to himself.

Winston could do better than him, but he's made his choice anyway. 

"What was your father like?" Hanzo asks quietly.

"Brilliant, and kind." Winston removes his glasses, gazing down at them thoughtfully. "He taught me so much. Not just science, but how much I wanted to help improve the world. He used to tell me: Never accept the world as it appears to be. Dare to see it for what it could be."

"He sounds wise."

"Sounded. Sorry." Winston sighs and pushes his glasses back on. "He was killed when the other apes revolted. I managed to escape them, but he wasn't so lucky."

Hanzo goes silent a moment between his slicing, then looks up. "I did not intend to remind you."

"No no, it's fine. I miss him, but I'm always going to remember him well." Winston gives an assuring grin, his fangs poking out just slightly past his lips. "May I ask what your father was like?"

Although sharing is a difficult matter for him, Hanzo knows it's only fair. He had asked Winston, and he knows that the gorilla would never use the information to harm him; he is trustworthy. "Shimada Tatsuya. He was a complicated man. Wise, loving, but strict in what was expected of me. I think that, perhaps, he did what he thought was right. Not always what was right. I am aware of what kind of business he ran, but I was raised to believe it was necessary for our clan." He snorts a little. "He let Genji do whatever he wanted. I only wish I had been as accepting."

"Well, I can't imagine what it was like. But I know you and Genji have come a long way. I think what's important isn't focusing on what could have been, but what you can build for the future. But, uh, that might not be my place to really say that."

"No. I appreciate what you have to share." Hanzo offers a tiny smile, wary and uncertain.

In return, Winston has a large grin. "Good. I'm glad we had a chance to talk, Hanzo. Let me know if you need any help with what you're working on. I'll be in the cabin in the meanwhile."

 

-=-=-

 

Hanzo doesn't consider himself a fantastic cook, but it seemed that everyone was adequately satisfied for those who needed to eat. It wasn't terrible, and he knows he's eaten worse himself; Tracer had hummed merrily as she ate, and Mei-ling admitted that it had been awhile since she had a fresh meal like it while McCree ate like he was starving. Hanzo wasn't convinced that the gunman had breathed at all during the entire meal, quite honestly. On the other hand, Winston has excellent dining manners, taking his time in small bites.

Zenyatta offered Hanzo tea. It was jasmine, and Hanzo almost had said no. He convinced himself it was fine to accept the gesture of kindness and certainly patience.

Arrangements have been made in terms of scheduling bathing and tent assignments. Zenyatta and Winston offered to finish setting up the tents. Tracer dragged Mei-ling off for bathing, who in response went completely pink in the face but did not argue. It didn't take long until Hanzo heard giggling from behind the curtain from both of them, and decides he doesn't want to overhear anything that they're up to, setting himself to cleaning up the remains of the fish, letting the skins dry out.

Eventually, Tracer and Mei-ling are finished for their round. It doesn't make much sense to Hanzo to bathe individually, even if he has valued his solitude in the past. Sharing with McCree doesn't bother him.

As soon as he's done taking off his boots, Hanzo catches McCree almost just climbing into the bath and scoffs at him. "Idiot, what are you doing?"

"Hell's it look like?" McCree raises a brow at him, not quite putting his foot into the bath.

"You wash yourself, rinse, _then_ bathe."

For a moment, McCree looks confused, then shrugs and approaches. "All right, Han. I'll bite. What's th' point of the bath then?"

"Relaxation. Why would I want to boil in my own filth?"

McCree chuckles and shakes his head. "If y'say so."

Thankfully, McCree doesn't argue, and simply accepts. Good. Hanzo turns his attention to scrubbing down his arms. After a long day of working, there's a certain comfort in washing it all away. It doesn't heal everything, but it's as close as he's going to feel to being renewed right now.

Not but five minutes later, McCree _has_ to speak again, asking, "Want me to get your back?"

"I can do it," Hanzo answers immediately, almost blurting it out. He frowns, startled by his own reaction before he shakes his head and adds, "But. I would not refuse your help."

Suds cover his back, and Hanzo closes his eyes. Years ago, when there was still a family of four, he remembers how on occasion they would visit the onsen together. It was cleared out for the Shimada family, and he had to convince a squirming, young Genji to hold still while he helped him, and he distantly recalls his father's amused chuckling and his mother's gentle laughter. One by one, they've all fallen. Father to illness, Genji to his own hand, and Mother--

McCree's fingers linger around his shoulders, then his thumbs press in, lightly massaging. Hanzo breathes in a little more sharply.

"Too hard?" he hears the gunman ask by his ear.

Hanzo just shakes his head. If he didn't want McCree touching him, he would make that explicitly clear. Which begs the thought: does he _want_ him to?

He has noticed the gradual friendliness from him. The man's distrust and disapproval made more sense than him suddenly warming up to him. While McCree has explained himself to a degree, it still strikes him as odd. Not that McCree is unpleasant. Most everyone else seems to like him well enough, he has charisma, and he makes himself likable. More than that, Hanzo respects his insight on people, his cleverness, and how easily he can approach someone.

The social skills are definitely something that Hanzo lacks in himself. That has always been true.

He groans a little when McCree finds a knot and begins to gently work it out. 

Hanzo's face feels warm.

Then he feels himself go rigid and he stands up, away from McCree sharply. "Whoa, hey," the taller man says, holding up his hands to look harmless. "You all right?"

"Fine," Hanzo answers quickly, not daring to look at him. 

"You look downright spooked."

" _I'm fine_ ," Hanzo says much more sternly. 

Wasting no time, he sets to rinsing himself off before he steps into the bath, not waiting for the other man. He sinks into the hot water and shuts his eyes, trying to not think right now about, well, anything. Anything to do with right now, anything with McCree, Genji, his family--

So that leaves him with nothing but his own conundrum. What Reaper can do to him, and the dragons refusing his call.

Hesitantly, Hanzo opens his eyes and looks down at his tattoo, frowning in contemplation. Why _now_ was it impossible to call upon them when he'd finally begun bridging a new relationship with his brother? How did he disappoint the dragons? 

"Hey now. None of that."

McCree's hand takes his wrist and Hanzo is immediately dragged away from his thoughts, finding himself facing the gunman. He hadn't paid much attention before, but here and now he can note little details: obviously in comparison to himself, McCree has more hair across his chest and arms, and he's not as well cut. Not necessarily unfit, but Hanzo is more obsessive in keeping himself toned. McCree, obviously, has less concerns by comparison. He can see the scarring on his arm where it meets metal, and other scrapes that may have tales to tell.

Hanzo exhales and looks away once again.

"What'd I do to make you distant?" McCree asks, genuinely curious.

"Why are you here?" Hanzo asks instead, sounding irritable.

"S'cuse me?"

Hanzo pulls his hand from McCree's grip. "Why are you here?" he repeats. "You asked if you could come. I did not deny you. But we did not need you. So why are you here, McCree?"

"You don't want me here, Han?"

"I did not say--" Hanzo stops before he says something cutting. He's frustrated by the lack of response, lack of a real answer. McCree is hiding something. "I do not mind you being here."

McCree lets out a laugh. "Yeah? Then what's with the cold shoulder suddenly?"

"You are _not_ answering my question."

Abruptly, McCree is pushing through the hot water, getting closer. In the expected responses, this is not what Hanzo had anticipated, and he finds himself crowded by the other man and suddenly holding his own breath. McCree braces his hands against the rim of the tub at either side of Hanzo's hips.

Despite the bath, there are goosebumps on his skin.

"You ain't answering mine either," McCree points out. "C'mon, look at me. You only stop lookin' at someone in the face when you're gettin' emotional, so what is it?"

Hanzo is well aware of how evasive he is being, and it's exactly this kind of observation that he usually respects out of McCree but finds himself _hating_ that he's even noticed about his own behavior. Both of them, including himself. More than he chooses to say, he knows why he's dodging McCree now, and he's recognizing the own anxious feeling he has in his chest. Despite his conversation with Tracer, his mind abruptly finds its way back to his father.

"Please tell me why you're here," Hanzo says instead, deeply troubled.

"Wanted to be. Honestly, wanted to make sure you were okay, too." McCree peers down at him. "I don't hate you, Hanzo. Figured that was obvious by now."

There's a part of him, still, that feels like McCree should. For however much he's started to work toward a future, somehow, with Genji he still has not forgiven himself. Hanzo doesn't know that it's even possible. What does McCree see when he looks at Hanzo now?

"Then you really are an idiot," Hanzo mutters, pushing his arms away.

Instead of getting upset or annoyed, McCree asks with a surprising amount of patience: "You gonna tell me what I'm doin' that's bothering you?"

"I am not bothered!"

"All right, all right." McCree takes a step back, holding up his hands. "If y'say so."

The remainder of the bath is quiet, outside of McCree's complacent, easygoing humming. Nothing about it, frankly, felt even remotely relaxing, and Hanzo feels himself abruptly not wanting to share a tent with this man.

He rises out of the water first, hastily getting himself dressed for the night without so much as a well wish to anyone, especially McCree, who is taking his time drying off and dressing himself, lagging far behind. His heart aches, and uncertainty rises in him as he marches to the tent, keeping his head down. 

Hanzo doesn't want to think about this. He doesn't want to think about McCree.

When he lays down and keeps his back to the entrance of the tent, he hears the other man just a few minutes later and swallows, closing his eyes.

He expects McCree to speak. He always talks. Never shuts up.

"Hanzo."

The archer doesn't answer him.

"Look, if I'm doin' something that's gettin' to you in a way that ain't appealing, you let me know. I can back off."

Hanzo grits his teeth and buries his face into the pillow wordlessly. Saying something, anything-- it seems obscenely difficult to sort out what's in his mind, what he wants to say and what he should say. Some of it habit, some of it on his mind. 

He opens his mouth, but no words come out.

He can't.

Thankfully, McCree says nothing more, instead going to his bedroll without another word.

Hanzo's heart doesn't stop racing.


	3. Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo laughs, and he is afraid of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RATING: Mature.  
> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement.  
> NOTE: When a chapter is specifically NSFW, it will be marked clearly and boldly. Otherwise, it's worth noting that this story takes place post-"Let Sleeping Dragons Lie", so there is a light sense of continuity. Although there is going to be a clearly defined relationship, it's equally worth noting that this story will focus on specific friendships as well.  
> Y'all can find me on tumblr as well at albawrites.tumblr.com if you wanna!

Nights in this region of the country are disgustingly warm. Not that it was the reason that Hanzo couldn't sleep; there are an abundance of things that are keeping him up tonight, but the heat certainly isn't helping with the status of things. For the past few hours, Hanzo has turned over several times on his side of the tent. Meanwhile, he hasn't heard McCree shift all that much, apparently soundly asleep.

That somehow makes it worse.

Finally, Hanzo gives up, sighing to himself as he pushes himself up, exiting the tent.

The sky has no clouds, offering a clear sight of the stars. More immediate in front of him is the fire, which has been kept going, oddly enough.

By Mei-Ling, apparently, who's sitting by it while she's going through her data pad.

When she looks up, she is startled, nearly dropping her pad. "Oh! Hanzo. Is everything all right?"

Truly, Hanzo doesn't know how to answer that. Instead, he asks, "Would you mind if I sat by the fire as well?"

"Come on over." Mei-Ling smiles at him and pats the spot near her.

While he hadn't initially intended on necessarily sitting next to her, he knows it would be rude to refuse. Slowly, Hanzo approaches, sitting with his legs tucked under him as he peers at the flames, as if they would deliver him any kind of answer to his several questions and worries.

"Can't sleep either?" she asks.

Hanzo quietly shakes his head.

"Do you want to talk?" Mei-Ling offers.

"I do not know," he answers truthfully.

For a moment, she seems to consider before she grins. "Well. Let's do this instead." The environmentalist is turning around, opening a cooler that had been set next to her. Rooting around the inside, she pulls out a can before she offers it to him.

Beer. An American brand, from the looks of it, but it'll do. Hanzo's gourd is back in the tent, and he might as well indulge a little. "Thank you," he murmurs, opening the can.

"McCree brought them." Mei-Ling opens her can, but pauses when she studies how quickly Hanzo frowns. "Oh. Are you two fighting, or...?"

"No." Hanzo sighs and looks away. "He has not done anything to offend me."

A curious hum comes from Mei-Ling, but she doesn't pry. Instead, she drinks from her can thoughtfully.

"Why are you awake?" Hanzo decides to ask instead. It's better than focusing on himself, and he wonders if she will be open to sharing.

The reaction he receives is Mei-Ling choking a little on her beer as her face goes red. "Ah, well-- just things on my mind. Same as you, I guess? Not that I have the same troubles as you, I just meant that..." Mei-Ling trails off, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I just mean my mind has been keeping me up."

"No apology necessary."

She smiles faintly, sitting back as she looks up, her eyes watching the sky. The campfire reflects off of her glasses, as well as the stars. Hanzo drinks from his can, snorting to himself. The flavor is terrible, and somehow feels no surprise knowing that McCree probably likes it. No sense of flavor whatsoever from that man.

"It's funny, how much things change," Mei-Ling says suddenly, voice quiet. "I missed out on so much."

Hanzo thinks to what he remembers about her, how she'd spent years in some sort of cyro-induced sleep. How long she'd been away from the world, the people she knew had passed on. How much she missed without meaning to. 

"I remember this site, way back when. The people that worked here. It's surreal to see it the way it is now." Mei-Ling sighs and drinks more from her can.

In a strange way, he finds himself relating somewhat. He doesn't want to focus on why, or what it has to do with Shimada castle. He closes his eyes and drinks, despite the awful flavor and missing his sake.

"When I woke up, I didn't know what to do at first. Everyone was gone." Mei-Ling lets out a tired laugh. "Even my parents. Old age. All while I was asleep."

When Hanzo first joined Overwatch, there had been no intent of much interaction with the others outside of fieldwork. He avoided them when he could, and socialized little, and that had been especially true of him and Genji. After escaping Talon, much was forced to happen: making headway with Genji, familiarizing himself with the other members--

Finding them relatable.

Hanzo spent ten years willingly running away from everything but his own misery. Mei-Ling spent years asleep because she thought it would keep her alive, and from the sounds of it lost so much as a result.

"I am sorry," he offers quietly.

Mei-Ling looks at him, as if surprised to hear him speak. The smile she wears is warmer. "It's okay. Overwatch coming together again really helped put everything in order for me, actually. I knew I already wanted to do everything I could to protect the world, but having you all with me makes it better. Just about everyone's been so welcoming. I don't know what I would do without everyone."

Is that being dependable on the others for belonging or happiness? That isn't all that different from how he felt in the Shimada clan, was it? No, he chides himself, it is different. The clan came bearing expectations, requirements, rules, and not all of it were things he agreed with but he kept his thoughts and feelings stifled far, far down until he almost made himself sick sometimes. Being part of Overwatch gives so many here a purpose.

A family for Genji and Winston. Belonging for Mei-Ling.

Hanzo is still trying to picture where he is, but he doesn't regret it.

"Would your parents have been proud?" Hanzo finds himself asking, and immediately wants to retract the question when Mei-Ling stares at him with alarm in her eyes.

But it melts away and she giggles behind her can. "Ah, no." Mei-Ling shakes her head. "They disapproved of everything I ever did. What I wanted to do, my first date, college -- they would have been happier if I found myself a nice husband instead of a nice girlfriend, you know?"

He does know. 

Just as when he spoke to Tracer, he found himself with the writhing sense of envy. Overwatch did not judge her for the life she felt she was allowed. In comparison, Mei-Ling's family had no approval, but she had done as her heart desired anyway. Genji had been allowed to do anything he wished by their father, and Hanzo lived by the rules given to him no matter how he felt about it. 

For a moment, Hanzo remembers. He remembers pleading, he remembers _Father, don't do this, I want it undone, please take it back_ and his father's sorrowful gaze, apologetic, but limiting him anyway.

He feels deeply unnerved suddenly.

"Hanzo?" Mei-Ling asks gently, as if recognizing his sudden discomfort.

"I should sleep," Hanzo says quickly.

He doesn't expect her hand on his wrist, the contact sending a jolt up his arm. Hanzo almost wants to jump away.

"I'm sorry if I said something that bothered you," she says sincerely.

"It is not your fault, Mei-Ling." That much he can tell her.

When she smiles, she says, "Just Mei is fine. All my friends call me that."

His heart wrenches, and he excuses himself. She does not stop him.

As soon as he makes it back to his tent, Hanzo almost finds the impulse to turn around and leave again: McCree is sitting up, looking contemplative, watching him. He knows the look in the larger man's eyes, calculating, smarter than he ever acts. Processing something.

"Why are you awake?" Hanzo snaps instead, as if he's deeply offended that McCree isn't asleep.

"Heard you chattin' up Mei is all," McCree responds, shrugging. "You been in a tiff since earler in the evening."

"It's nothing." Hanzo wishes he could convince himself of that.

McCree sighs and says, "Horse shit. Look, c'mere. Sit down."

For a moment, Hanzo wants to argue, wants to tell him to mind his own business. The fight in him dissipates and he lets out an angry sigh, only furious with himself. McCree has not wronged him, hasn't all day, and he knows he's being unreasonable, but hasn't the ability to say why. He doesn't want to think about it.

He is afraid.

Eventually, Hanzo slowly sinks to sit next to McCree, frowning to himself. The gunman is resting a hand to his shoulder, guiding him down. For a moment, Hanzo resists, and knows that if he continued to do so McCree would release him. Eventually, he lets himself be guided down, hesitantly resting his head in McCree's lap.

Nothing is demanded of him. Fingers are slowly combing through Hanzo's hair, and the archer freezes.

"I ain't gonna hurt you." McCree doesn't sound tired or exasperated, simply trying to ease Hanzo's fears.

"I know that."

"Yeah?" McCree tucks hair behind Hanzo's ear. "Mind if I ask why you act like I'm gonna bite you, then?"

Hanzo closes his eyes, then shakes his head. 

"All right."

"McCree," Hanzo says, feeling a lump in his throat.

"Mm?"

"Why are you in Overwatch?"

"Huh." McCree gently scratches Hanzo at the scalp. "Funny question. You know my file, yeah?"

Hanzo shrugs. "I have read it."

"Then I s'pose I'll clarify. Time that I spent in the Deadlock Gang, spent hurtin' plenty of folks for my own sake. Other people's money, poor or rich; killin' and robbin' people who didn't do me or anyone else any harm. Weapon trade, all kinds of shit. It was my second shot. Figure you know all that, though. Me bein' here means my own kinda redemption. Plus, it sure as hell ain't ever boring."

It all means something different for everyone, but regardless everyone has a purpose. There's an uneasy shudder that runs through Hanzo. He doesn't know what kind of answer he wants when he asks, "What do you want from me?"

"Right now? 'Bout all I want is you restin', maybe fallin' asleep." Hair is brushed out of Hanzo's face.

The answer does not satisfy, but Hanzo doesn't have the strength to argue. He lets out an irritated sigh, which somehow only earns an amused chuckle from McCree, deep and throaty. With a scowl, Hanzo tries to relax like this, his head in the other man's lap. Fingers continue to comb through his hair.

Somewhere along the way, when McCree starts humming, is about when Hanzo finally sleeps.

 

-=-=-

 

The morning is more sweltering than it had been the previous day, to no one's relief. Work will undoubtedly be more difficult, and no one is envious of Winston who has to endure it all with fur on top of it. Anything expired in the cabins has been thrown out, and while Mei has been focusing on repairing the old, unused equipment, Winston is putting forth the effort of fixing their plumbing issue.

Midway through the day, almost all of them are tired, even Tracer who's bemoaning the lack of chill, fog, and rain that London could be offering her right at this moment, and McCree grouses that at least it's a _dry_ heat in New Mexico.

Mei offers a temporary solution of making shaved iced, but meekly asks if anyone would mind fetching berries that might offer them some flavor.

Knowing the forest well enough by now, Hanzo agrees to the search. He tries not to grumble when McCree offers to go with him.

The trek into the woods is slightly better than their exposed clearing with the shade, but it's also slightly more humid. Over the course of the day, Hanzo had given up his half-yukata, having shrugged off the other sleeve, letting it dangle uselessly at his side. It doesn't offer much relief but it is something.

"So how's a ninja assassin learn how to make a damned bath tub?" he hears McCree ask. It was only a matter of time until he started talking, Hanzo supposes.

Hanzo pauses at a bush and glances over the contents. Nothing ripened. "There were skills I had to learn on my own after I left the Shimada clan."

"And that includes makin' a tub."

"Bucket," Hanzo mutters with admission as he presses in. "The first one I made leaked. A lot. A tub is like that, but bigger."

"The hell you'd need a bucket for?"

"As I said, I do not care for being unclean," Hanzo replies, snorting. He pauses at another bush, then makes a grunt of approval before he begins picking the berries.

A stretch of silence fills in between them. In the background, he can hear the stream just a few feet away, birds chirping in the woods, and the rustle of the leaves with a breeze that does nothing to cool them off and simply pushes around the heavy, humid air. Hanzo inspects every berry carefully, silently not wanting to disappoint Mei. She had much to say last night, and had been considerate of his invasive questions.

Somewhere a few feet behind him, he did hear McCree sorting through a bush, but he's stopped. Perhaps it did not have as many that were ripe enough as initially determined.

Then he feels something heavy and wet thrown into his back, splattering across his skin. Hanzo nearly drops his bucket and reaches back to touch what was thrown at him.

Mud.

Hanzo looks over his shoulder and gives an infuriated glare at McCree, who's hand is clearly sullied.

"Y'know, this was a lot more charming in my head than how this is playin' out," McCree says, his smile less arrogant and more wary.

Wordlessly, Hanzo drops his bucket and _moves_ , faster than McCree can react. He isn't interested in hurting the other man, but he's always been poor in letting go of a grudge. Hanzo kicks out, tripping McCree off of his feet, causing him to fall back into the stream.

The gunman is flat on his back, most of him in water or covered in mud. He looks alarmed for a moment, as if surprised that Hanzo didn't do worse.

Hanzo snorts, then chuckles. "You look ridiculous," he murmurs, unable to help the fondness in his voice.

McCree pushes himself up by the elbows, staring at him for a moment before grinning widely. "Well, I'll be. You _can_ laugh."

A scoff escapes Hanzo and he looks away. "Do not be absurd."

"Oh, you can't pretend that didn't just happen!" To Hanzo's surprise, McCree is grabbing for his ankle. As soon as McCree has a solid grip on the archer, Hanzo finds himself quickly yanked down into the water with him.

The stream isn't very deep, but there's enough water to splash up into his face, and he finds himself quickly soaked. Hanzo isn't allowed much time for a react, not before McCree is giving him _such_ a broad smile before he's burying his face into Hanzo's neck, blowing into his skin noisily, tickling him.

The laughter that's earned out of Hanzo is loud, and sounds strange to him. He can't remember the last time he's ever laughed that loudly, freely, or almost with innocence. He just about doesn't recognize himself.

They sit a moment, wet and in the stream. McCree's arms are warm, even the metal one, still around him, and his face isn't far from Hanzo's.

Hanzo feels light.

"Ought to do that more often, Han," McCree tells him, smiling. It is enchanting.

Wordlessly, Hanzo leans in, kissing him. It's soft, almost delicate, and his pulse quickens. One of McCree's hands moves up to touch his jaw, careful and inviting him. Hanzo exhales through his nose and opens his mouth, pressing in to kiss him harder. Gently, McCree squeezes his shoulder, and Hanzo quietly appreciates the contact.

The moment is pleasant.

_You must understand that you cannot have this. Something more than a fleeting arrangement._

The memory of his father sinks into his mind, and he pulls away from McCree abruptly. He tries to not look at the taller man's face, but he catches it briefly: McCree is surprised, _concerned_. Not disappointed. That is so much worse.

"Han?"

_Father, don't do this, I want it undone, please take it back--_

He can't. He can't _have this_ , and Hanzo feels his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

Without so much as an explanation, Hanzo flees into the woods, hearing McCree call out for him.

Hanzo does not look back.

 

-=-=-

 

Chasing Hanzo through the woods is not how McCree had expected to spend the hot afternoon. Twenty minutes in, calling and hollering after him without so much of a sight of him amounts to nothing, and the damned bastard won't even pick up his communicator when he tries that way. Suffice it to say, if a ninja wants to stay hidden, McCree sure as hell isn't going to be able to locate him.

He doesn't understand what had happened to cause this. McCree has tried numerous times to recall everything that was said and done during that instance, and he can't quite pinpoint whatever it is that Hanzo is trying to avoid. 

When he's back with a couple of buckets of berries, he sets them aside for Mei, having no appetite for the treat now, unfortunately.

Tracer has a laugh. "You were gone for ages! You get lost, love?"

"Where's Hanzo?" Winston immediately takes notice.

"Scampered off. Couldn't tell ya. Tried lookin' for him." McCree sounds tired. He feels tired.

"Shouldn't we go lookin' for him, then?" Tracer pipes up, concerned.

"I would advise against that."

All eyes turn toward Zenyatta. It's often difficult to tell considering the omnic doesn't have much of a face to express with, but McCree is under the impression that the monk is contemplative, his fingers folded as he hovers. 

Zenyatta lifts his head, gazing at them. "He is not the sort of man to be chased and cornered and pulled back in. When he is ready to return, he will do so. When he is ready to ask for help, at that time we will be ready. That is my advice."

The suggestion makes Tracer frown. Unsurprising, as someone who's eager to leap into someone's life and do her best to pick them up when they fall, but it's not always the brand of assistance that someone needs. Eventually, Winston sighs and nods, saying, "I think Zenyatta's right about this. Hanzo has his own way of dealing with things. When he gets back, we should just be ready for him."

It's not what everyone wants to hear, but McCree doesn't think that they have much of a choice otherwise. No one would be able to find him if he doesn't want to be found, and all that they can really do is wait.

Mei makes her shaved ice anyway, with syrupy berries added for flavoring. It reminds McCree briefly of his boyish days at a fair with snow cones and wondering what the hell a blue raspberry really is. He takes the bowl, but isn't certain about having it.

She offers a timid smile. "I think Hanzo wouldn't want you to waste it."

"How d'ya figure?" Not that McCree thinks she's wrong, but he is curious about her thought process.

"He is withdrawn, afraid to care. But he is trying anyway. I don't know what he's going through, but I think he'll come to terms with it. So, in the meanwhile, you should have your shaved ice, and I will save his portion."

True to her word, Mei walks away with Hanzo's serving in order to stash it away, leaving McCree.

"So what happened, anyway? That made Hanzo run off," Tracer asks, because of _course_ she does.

McCree almost chokes on his shaved ice. "We were, uh. Just messin' around. I threw mud at him."

She definitely isn't convinced. Tracer plunks down next to him, her nose wrinkling. "That so? Messin' around and such?"

"C'mon, Lena."

"Don't _c'mon Lena_ me, I'm worried about the guy. I know you are too, so jus' let me know what happened, yeah?"

"Look, we messed around, then he kissed me, then he looked ready to jump outta his skin before he tore off like a bat in hell." McCree shrugs helplessly.

For a moment, Tracer looks thoughtful as she chews her lower lip. "Bloody hell," she mutters, standing up suddenly as she runs her fingers through her hair. "Oh, Hanzo."

"What? What the hell does that mean?"

"It ain't my place to say jus' yet. I mean, I got ideas, but..." Tracer shakes her head. "Well, we'll jus' wait for him to come back. Like Zenyatta said. We jus' gotta be patient."

_Be patient with my brother,_ McCree remembers Genji telling him. 

It's all any of them can do, he supposes.

Further into the day, an hour or so after his fruitless search for Hanzo, and McCree hears the bushes shuffle and part. Eventually approaching the camp is Hanzo, his brows knitted and his face uncertain. The way that he looks right now is a man who is lost, trying to find his own feet and senses. For a moment, McCree feels frustration, wanting to ask Hanzo what he'd been thinking, but ultimately he knows in his heart that it's not as if Hanzo had run off on purpose.'

He was scared of something. He still is. McCree just wishes he knew what he was so frightened of.

From over his shoulder, he can tell that the others are watching, no one making demands of him. Hanzo seems startled, and turns his gaze away, the telltale sign of feeling something. An emotion he doesn't know how to process.

"Hey," McCree finally says, approaching him, holding out his hand. "You wanna have a talk?"

"Perhaps," Hanzo responds quietly. "If you are not opposed."

"Wouldn't have offered if I was," McCree assures. "C'mon. We'll chat. Take it easy."

"All right, loves, let's give 'em space," Tracer says, trying sound hushed, which is about as successful as a stampede trying to whisper. She does manage to encourage Mei, Winston, and Zenyatta to go into the cabin, leaving McCree and Hanzo in camp.

Hanzo doesn't take his hand, but he steps closer to sit by their smoldering embers of what had once been a fire. It's good enough, McCree decides; he proceeds to dig into one of the boxes he brought with them. A bottle is pulled out, and offered to the archer.

It seems to startle him when he recognizes it. "Plum wine," Hanzo murmurs, hesitantly taking it.

"Figured I'd bring it with me since we missed out on a movie," McCree says, settling down next to him. 

It's silent between them for an awful while. This is definitely not what McCree had intended when he offered to talk, but he's also not interested in pressing Hanzo for answers no matter how many questions swim in his mind. So, he takes out a beer, popping it open while Hanzo slowly sips from the bottle of wine. The weight of the quiet between them almost amounts to as much as the humidity in the air building up, promising a storm sooner or later.

"We went to a private high school, Genji and I," Hanzo says out of no where, almost making McCree jump. "In Hanamura. Everyone knew the name of the Shimada clan, every teacher and every student. Genji was natural with people. Everyone else pretended to be my friend, but I accepted it. They wanted to ensure that their families were friends of the Shimada clan. It made sense to me at the time. But I was not happy. The only one I felt who understood me for a long time was Genji. He was the only one who was able to make me smile. When I was sixteen, I met the most ridiculous boy in my class.

"His name was Hisaishi Kenichi. He was taller than me, broad shoulders, not completely Japanese. He was clumsy, and wanted to play the violin. I thought he was such a foolish boy when he spoke to me so freely. Everyone had the sense to call me _Shimada-san_ at least, but immediately with him it was my name. I was offended by his friendliness, of all things, for being so familiar with me. But it wasn't because he had an ego, it was because he ... saw something, I suppose, in me. I don't know what it was, but he didn't want anything from me but companionship."

"Hanzo," McCree finds himself saying, but otherwise cannot interrupt.

Hanzo drinks from his bottle. "I was promised at a young age to marry a girl. Nomura Nori. A fine girl, intelligent. I did not know her other than the brief meetings I was to have with her. We both knew our fates. But I did not love her. I did not love any girl. But Kenichi was my first love, who was genuine with me, who wanted to share his music with me. My father did not approve. He paid money to have Kenichi and his family move to Kyoto, far away from Hanamura. He told me I could not afford to have such heartful distraction, that if I chose I could have something fleeting with another man until the day I married, but I could not afford a distraction like Kenichi. I begged him to undo everything, the only time I ever asked him of anything. He refused."

Silently, McCree holds out his hand for Hanzo, watching the assassin carefully. It takes a moment, but Hanzo looks up at him, his brows knitted, uncertainty on his face. It's hell of a tale to have heard, that as the heir to the clan, Hanzo had to swallow and bury one of the aspects that makes him _him_ for the Shimada legacy. That Genji had been right, that there are so many reasons Hanzo loathes himself, and one of those things having to do with the nature of the kind of person he falls in love with, something he can't even help. 

"I had affairs with men for years. Nothing I could engage in terms of the heart, because I was promised to another." Hanzo's voice sounds like it wavers. "So tell me, McCree. What do you want from me? _Why are you here with me?_ "

McCree lets out an uneasy breath. "'Cuz you're worth gettin' to know, Hanzo. Like I said before, I don't hate you. Even though you got no clue how to work on redeeming yourself, you're doin' it anyway. You're ownin' up to what you did, and you're _trying_ , and that's the kind of man I see. I like you, and I'd kinda like it if it became more than that."

With hesitancy, Hanzo takes his hand, shuddering. Gently, McCree squeezes it.

"You got me as long as you want me," McCree tells him.

"I understood it better when you didn't approve of me," Hanzo mutters.

"Things change. You have been. And I like th' guy you're becoming so far."

It seems as if that makes Hanzo speechless. Another tremor passes through him, and he presses his face into his free hand. McCree moves closer to him, hesitantly putting his arm around his shoulders.

Hanzo leans into his hold silently. "Thank you, McCree," he murmurs.

A lop-sided smile is delivered in return. "Call me Jesse."

 

-=-=-

 

The day moves on, and when it is night, it is not any cooler. 

After sitting with Jesse, Hanzo is not certain he feels any lighter from his burdens, but he finds that he is glad to have told him what has weighed him so long. He does not know where things will go with him, but he is telling himself to _try_ , and Hanzo thinks that he can trust him. 

The others come to check on him. Tracer is smiling kindly, taking his arm again as she had before, asking if he's feeling better. Stiffly, he assures that he is fine; Tracer nods, and tells him:

"Seems like your talk had been real productive with McCree. I'm glad, love. You can come talk anytime y'like. That's a promise. We're all here."

Mei had been kind enough to bring him the shaved ice. Despite the chill of the treat, her expression is warm, and she touches his forearm. "I'm always ready for a late night chat if you need it," she promises.

After he had finished the shaved ice -- which was cooling and enjoyable -- Hanzo had found himself abruptly held into a tight embrace by Winston, something he did not expect. The scientist has always been friendly with him, and Winston admitted that he was relieved to know he was back and okay.

"Just don't scare us like that," Winston pleads, looking troubled.

Hanzo was not aware he had worried them so much. He still can't quite grasp the reasons why, but he's seeing the reasons why Genji loves all of them as much as he does, how he'd adopted them as family so thoroughly after these years.

Is that something Hanzo can truly do? He wonders himself.

It is night, the moon offering light in the sky with the stars. 

Hanzo approaches Zenyatta, who hovers thoughtfully by the campfire. Taking in a breath, Hanzo bows to him.

"Would you assist me?" Hanzo asks, his voice quiet.

Zenyatta turns to him, and bows his head in return. "I would be honored, Shimada Hanzo. Lead me somewhere that brings you peace here, that brings you joy, uncertainty, and thrill."

Hanzo thinks of the stream in the woods, and knows where they must go.


	4. Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo sits and meditates with Zenyatta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RATING: Mature.  
> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement.  
> NOTE: When a chapter is specifically NSFW, it will be marked clearly and boldly. Otherwise, it's worth noting that this story takes place post-"Let Sleeping Dragons Lie", so there is a light sense of continuity. Although there is going to be a clearly defined relationship, it's equally worth noting that this story will focus on specific friendships as well.  
> I can be found at tumblr under the same username: albawrites.tumblr.com

The humidity in the air hangs low, and clouds begin to crawl the sky. Rain will, eventually, happen. He supposes if he asked Mei, she could have told him when and where, precisely, but as it is, he walks through the forest with Zenyatta at this side. They are both silent as they go, letting the woods engulf them as Hanzo leads the way, further and further in until he hears the familiar trickle of the stream. There is still mud not far away, and the scuffle of feet where Jesse coaxed him to play and laugh for a few minutes before his fear ended up winning him over.

A brief moment of shame sinks in. Jesse has been patient, kind, and now he comprehends why. Even right now, he wonders why _him_ of all people, and he'd been tempted to ask the question, but ultimately he knows he selfishly wants something with him as well.

If he were a better man, he'd let Jesse go already.

"Hanzo," Zenyatta says, his voice gentle. "Here?"

Hanzo nods and slowly sinks into a sitting position. "What must I do?"

Zenyatta turns to face him. Despite lacking any facial expressions, his body language gives him away enough as being patient and calm. "There is a great deal of turmoil still buried within you. Speaking honestly with McCree and beginning your healing with Genji are all but parts of a sum of who you are. Some of which Genji has confessed to me, some of which I have interpreted, and perhaps other matters that only you know yourself. These wounds will take time to heal, and tonight will be but one step of many to bring you peace. But we can start the process here. Together, let us meditate, and I will guide you as I can."

The last time he had attempted to meditate with Zenyatta, it meant he came upon disturbing news concerning what Talon wanted him to do with Genji. For a moment, his chest tightens, then he breathes in slowly as he closes his eyes. Today, it is not a matter of remembering what was forgotten, but to start untangling the distress in him.

"Listen to the stream. Think of what it means to you."

Water runs fluidly, freely, like emotions. Difficult to guide and control, but not impossible. Everlasting change, and the brief moments of joy and fear he'd felt. 

His pulse slows, and he lets out an uneasy sigh.

"You are a man who carries many burdens," Zenyatta says. "Genji informed me of your first."

Of course he did. What has Genji not confessed to Zenyatta? Hanzo almost feels his anger spike, then struggles for a moment as he tells himself that this monk is only here to help him, not rile him up.

"Our mother," Hanzo mutters, his throat constricting awfully.

"Yes."

How could Hanzo ever forget?

In retrospect, he'd always felt like Mother and Father were never particularly close, and fathoms now that it must have been that they, too, had an arranged marriage, most likely. Still, he never doubted that Mother loved them. She did love her sons, until her very last breath.

"How old were you?" Zenyatta asks softly.

It was the middle of the night. Father was away on business, tending to a meeting, all the way in Osaka. He would not be back for days. Mother had already put them to bed. Hours in, Genji came, telling him _anjia I had a bad dream_ and Hanzo set aside his blanket to invite his brother for comfort.

Shortly after that, he had heard the window shatter.

"I was ten," Hanzo responds, feeling his pulse quicken anxiously.

There were men that broke into Shimada castle so boldly. They knew where to go, to find Shimada-sama's first born son, and were only so lucky to find that Genji was with him at the time. Hanzo felt fear, but put his arms around his little brother, determined to protect him as the men approached with their weapons drawn.

As children, they did not fully understand yet what their father did for work. Family business, he would always say, as he went to his meetings, whatever they meant; true, Hanzo was already being trained to fight, but at the time there was some enjoyment out of it and he did not comprehend what it truly meant as of yet. Neither of them did not know yet. Mother must have known, Hanzo supposes, otherwise she wouldn't have run to their room so quickly.

She screamed for her sons, and struck down one man with the lamp nearby. Untrained, but fierce and loving. That is how Hanzo will always remember her.

The other two were quick to kill her.

Hanzo remembers how Genji screamed.

"I was told that you killed them," Zenyatta says, his voice remaining so gentle.

 _Under your pillow, always keep a weapon,_ his father said and at the time, he did not know why. He learned then, and knew how to quickly gut them. There had been blood everywhere, warm on his hands, across his clothing.

Hanzo does not like to be unclean.

But it was too late. Their mother had been murdered, protecting her children.

He failed to--

"They were my first kills," Hanzo says stiffly.

"You wish you could have saved her."

Hanzo doesn't answer. He'd wondered how he could have treated the situation differently if he reacted faster, more intelligently. Since that day, Hanzo worked harder to understand what his father did for a living, and dedicated himself to the clan. His seriousness was respected by Father. Genji...

Perhaps this was the seed that began Genji's dubiousness.

But if he could have somehow...

"You were a child," Zenyatta reminds him. "There is no one in this world or the next that begrudges you for what happened. Certainly not Genji."

Hanzo shudders. He doesn't think that Genji ever blamed him, but he did blame himself despite his own age. Even their father did not look down upon him for being incapable of saving her. 

"Hanzo. This is but one of many instances that you must come to terms with. She chose love. Remember that."

He swallows, furrowing his brows as he tries to concentrate on his meditation. Hanzo isn't certain that he completely agrees, but it is a knot of feelings that he's carried with him for years upon years.

"What else is it?" Zenyatta asks carefully. "That you wonder that you could have changed."

"Kenichi," he finds himself whispering.

"Then wonder."

 

Hisaishi Kenichi was a tall, awkwardly proportioned high school student; his hair was dark brown, messy, and his teeth slightly too large, and he was wonderful and earnest. Their first kiss was on the roof, out of sight, a wonderful secret. It made Hanzo smile at the foolish boy who was so interested in the heir of the Shimada clan.

They shared many more after that, and Kenichi, naive and wonderful, snuck into the compound to see him. Their last kiss was there, seen by an elder.

That evening, he was summoned to his father.

 _My son, you cannot afford such a distraction._ Father was not scolding him. It was rare when he did, back then. It was more of a lecture, loving, informing him of what he knew to be truth. _Matters of the heart are delicate. I understand more than you can know, but your dedication is needed to your family. You will not see that boy again._

_Father--_

_You must understand that you cannot have this. Something more than a fleeting arrangement._ A gentle hand had rested on the top of Hanzo's head. I have arranged for the Hisaishi family to be moved. You are promised, you know this.

Hanzo's heart had been struck then. _Father, don't do this, I want it undone, please take it back--_ He cannot remember the last time he ever begged for anything from his father.

_It has already been done._

In reality, Hanzo surrendered to his situation, knowing what his future would be, how it was planned, how one day he will marry to a girl with a powerful family and unite houses under the Shimada name and bring more sons. That he would know pleasure with men, but it would be loveless.

But he wondered what it would be like, if he refused. What if he ran away, determined to have one thing to himself? Ran, and found Kenichi? Terribly romantic, but foolish. Likely, their time together would be fleeting.

 

Hanzo feels his arm tingle.

 

For the next few years, he would only know how to run and dodge men sent to reclaim him. At first, Kenichi and Hanzo would be loving, gentle -- but Hanzo could not present a promising future now that he abandoned his family, and directionless rage would consume his heart, and how they would argue. _I can't support you, you have to know that,_ Kenichi might have said.

At age 19, they would part ways. Hanzo would run across the country, aimless and wandering, only knowing how to be a vagabond and hold nothing in his hands as everything would slip away.

One day, the men stop coming for him. 

Hanzo would be 28.

In his cheap motel room, Hanzo would notice the door unlocked. He would grip his katana, preparing to tiredly protect himself.

It would be Genji inside, forced to occupy the position Hanzo had once been promised to.

 _Please come back_ , his brother would whisper, and Hanzo would hear his terror behind a voice forced to be strong. _Anija._

 _For what?_ Hanzo would demand.

_Father died._

Hanzo would scoff, despite the brief pang of regret. _And if I do not return? I am a threat to your seat?_

_The elders say so._

_The elders have always said many things, otouto._

When their eyes would meet, Hanzo would know the truth. That this is the path he forced upon his brother, to take the place meant for him. There is a difference between choosing love and choosing selfishness. Once again, he would turn his back on his brother instead of _thinking_ for him. Choosing Kenichi would have condemned Genji, and that would never be a price worth paying. There would be no satisfaction in this.

Not when Genji would be forced to duel him, and Hanzo would fall willingly, because there would be nothing to fight for.

 

Hanzo breathes in sharply, feeling cold sweat prickling his skin, and his eyes open, unsettled. 

The sky is darker, and across from him is Zenyatta, ever patient, watching him carefully. The air is heavy with humidity and emotion.

"What was your answer?" Zenyatta asks him carefully. "Was the change was you wished it was?"

Hanzo hesitates to respond. Looking inside of himself, cruelly no, it was not. Is that to say that he should have submitted to his father's wishes? That it was for the best? What exactly is the purpose of this? For a moment, he feels his temper flare and he wants to make demands of the monk.

But he knows that this will take time. No answer could ever come so quickly.

"The fight with you and Genji. The largest wound in your heart. What have you always asked yourself?"

Hanzo's hands curl, clenching, a tremor running up his limbs. He'd wondered so many things, but ultimately: "If I had just-- if I held back."

"Let your mind wander. What do you think would have happened?"

 

In their childhood, they had been close. Hanzo fondly remembers how eager Genji had been to find ways to make him smile. The older they became, the more there was expected of Hanzo, the heavier things felt. It was his duty; he was the heir, he had to adhere to a standard, had to keep his chin up and do what was necessary. As things progressed after he was done with high school, Hanzo committed everything to the clan as was expected. The words of their elders, and their father's guidance.

Father loved them. Perhaps he did not guide them as he should have, but Hanzo never doubted his love. It was not enough to keep him healthy.

The more his health deteriorated, the more Hanzo insisted that Genji take part in the family business. The more Genji struggled against the control, yearning for the freedom he'd always known.

Father could not protect either of them forever. When he passed, the elders turned their gazes to Hanzo, and told him to reel in his brother, assert control of him. If he could not do it, be rid of him.

They argued. They fought. Hanzo became exhausted. Frustrated. Why couldn't his brother understand?!

This time, in the hall, the storm was in his heart, and he knew what the elders would want. For their clan. _For your father,_ they told Hanzo.

So he stood, Dragon of the South Wind, ready to strike down Dragon of the North Wind.

 _You have squandered your place long enough,_ Hanzo growled at his brother.

 _This is the same old fight,_ Genji said, annoyed and sighing. _Are we doing this?_

Hanzo answered with his sword. 

Originally, Hanzo was a masterful swordsman, the katana made for him sitting perfectly in his hand. Archery was but a way for him to meditate and find peace, a perfected hobby. This? This was his true form, and he was out for blood. Genji knew he would not stand a chance.

 _You're a fool! Irresponsible!_ he snarled with every strike. _You disgrace the clan!_

 _And you are just a puppet!_ Genji hissed.

When it came time to strike, Hanzo had felt an electrical rush of energy in his arm, the dragons ready to be summoned. Their presence licked the air, and it smelled of rain, and it was in that moment Genji's eyes widened with true fear now.

This was not like their other fights.

This would be the end.

Genji's voice trembled: _Anija? Is this what you want?_

It was never about what he wanted. All his life, it has never been about what he desired, but for the sake of his family, his duty to uphold their business, their honor. Hanzo was ready--

But what if he swallowed it all down? The taste of the dragons would subside, and his katana would fall numbly from his fingers. Perhaps Hanzo would whisper, _Go. Go, and run. You are no longer part of the Shimada clan._

Genji would stare, disbelieving. The only home he'd ever known, no longer his own? _Hanzo?_

 _You are banished! You are dead to us!_ Hanzo would struggle to convince himself of it, but he had to. He had to commit himself to the idea that Genji would be dead. _Leave!_

In that moment, Genji would run, free. No longer promised to the Shimadas, safe from the elders.

Safe from Hanzo.

The elders would be disappointed, and promised to send assassins to finish the job. Beyond that, Hanzo claimed his duty was fulfilled, and remained in his stance at head of the Shimada clan. The loveless marriage of him and Nomura Nori would come together, bringing the houses into one. Four years since the duel pass on, and they have a daughter, the first bit of light into his life since that day.

Suzume.

Everything would come back around, as it is always promised to.

A fateful night, he would hear the shattering of glass, a haunting from his childhood with his mother. His mind would flit to Genji; pointless, he was no longer here. But then--

Hanzo would turn and run. It would be too late as he would hear Nori's screams, and the wet sound of a blade piercing flesh, blood finding the floor.

Suzume would scream for her mother.

 _Enough!_ Hanzo would roar, bringing out his katana to face his opponent in the room.

For a moment, he was not certain what to make of him; not an omnic, but someone who had been augmented. The light in the room coming off of the assassin would be green, lighting everything up: the frightened teary-eyed gaze of his daughter, the lifeless gaze of his dead wife on the floor, and the dripping blood coming off of the assassin's blade. Wordlessly, his gaze would turn to Hanzo's.

Without sparing another moment, Hanzo would attack. He would go undefeated. He would always go undefeated. That was how it had been in the past.

Their fight would go across the rooftops of Shimada castle, the duel impressive but deadly. His opponent was not tiring as much as Hanzo was, singleminded in its focus to kill him.

Finally, Hanzo would gain the upper-hand, pointing his katana down at the assassin, ready to strike.

A single word whispered from the assassin: _Hanzo._

He knew that voice. How could he ever forget? It was not as if his brother had died. Hanzo's heart would lurch. _Genji?!_

In that moment of weakness and despair at knowing who his assailant was, Genji leapt up, his own katana in his hands as he cried out: **Ryuujin no ken wo kurae!**

The green dragon would strike Hanzo down, and he knew oblivion. 

But it would not kill Hanzo.

Days, perhaps weeks later, Hanzo would find himself waking, unable to feel his arms or legs. His breathing felt stifled, and he gasped, staring at his limbs, what was left of them.

Metal. Mechanical.

Overwatch saved his life. Genji, they would tell him, had eventually been taken by Talon. Why would they waste a perfect opportunity to program someone who already had deadly skills? They had augmented his brother so much that Hanzo had not recognized him. Overwatch had been kind enough to bring his daughter with him and keep her safe, but unfortunately could only save so much of Hanzo, and in part he wished that they had not.

 _He knew me,_ Hanzo's voice would shake like the rest of him. _My brother... I did this to him._

 _Talon is the one who changed your brother,_ a man named Morrison would tell him, his brows knitted. _You can't blame yourself for that, Shimada._

_I should never have told him to leave! I could not save him, I could not protect him, I--_

_Maybe,_ Morrison responded. _And I can't promise that you can save him. He's probably unreachable. But if you want a shot at getting your brother back, we're the ones who can help you. What do you say, Shimada?_

It would be years. There would be fighting, and Hanzo's focus would be his brother. He would forget everything else. Suzume, forgotten to the winds, and Hanzo could not quite remember to love, but he _obsessed._

The dragons would reunite one day, he told himself.

Even as the years would stretch on, Hanzo would hold onto the idea, not knowing how else to live.

 

It's night when Hanzo opens his eyes, though the clouds obscure any sight of the moon or stars. He almost chokes on how thick the air is, and he shakes his head, rubbing his eyes.

What the hell is that supposed to answer for him? That striking down Genji was the right thing? How is this helping? More questions are forming in his mind, and he doesn't understand.

"You were in deep meditation for quite sometime," Zenyatta says. "Here."

A cup is placed into his hands, and he looks down at the water before he drinks slowly.

"Do you want to talk about what you saw?"

"I do not know yet." Hanzo scowls at his cup. "I do not know that I even understand."

"What you see within yourself are only thoughts of what could have been. The paths that were not chosen. They aren't promises."

The archer sighs and tightens his grip on the water. "I know."

"You are a man who lingers in the past, angry at himself at the choices he did not make, or took and regretted. What you see within yourself are the routes of possibilities, for better or for worse. And you as you are, do you see glimmers of hope or something crueler?"

Hanzo snorts. That gives Zenyatta enough of an answer, he's certain.

"What is the question that remains on your mind?" Zenyatta asks him.

The way he speaks suggests only one lingering question. Instead, he feels as if he has dozens rattling around, and the lack of direction irritates Hanzo. Ultimately, he knows what the monk is suggesting, and Hanzo looks within himself.

Fearing. Knowing that his mind is still tangled around what Talon had done to _him._

What if he hadn't overcome the trigger?

What if he did strike down Genji?

 

Genji threw him off, then went still before he was sheathing his sword. _Is this what you want, Hanzo? What you truly want?_ He let out a shudder before he was holding out his hands. _Then strike me down once again, anija. I will not stop you._

For a moment, something struggled inside of Hanzo.

But ultimately, if he had not been strong enough--

Letting out a roar, Hanzo would leap at his target, hearing the Soldier scream for Genji somewhere in the room. The knife would go into Genji's side, something black pouring out with blood.

 _Hanzo_ , Genji would groan, voice mixed with static, pained and disappointed.

With a snarl, Hanzo would kick him to the floor, raising his knife. Finish the job, he had to finish the job, his honor rested on this--

When he looked down, it was not his brother who had been rebuilt, but the brother he first fought. Dread would curl inside of him, and before he could deliver the final strike, Hanzo would find himself fleeing, leaving him behind, hearing Genji croak after him and begging him to stay.

There would be the command--

The command to **return** , no matter how the mission went. Something is **broken** , and Talon would expose and shatter it, they would command him to return to them, prepared to be remolded into what they would want. 

It would be months of work, retooling him. Hanzo would be a newly tamed beast for them, another monster to fight and devour Talon's enemies. With the aid of Talon, the Shimada empire is reborn, with Hanzo returning as the heir, quickly silencing any who would dream to question him.

For the field, alongside Reaper and Widowmaker, there are no arrows. The blade he once left behind would be in his possession again. At their sides, there would not be Hanzo, but only the Oni, fitting as the ogre mask would rest over his face as he struck down his foes.

It would only be a matter of time until he would come across the traitor again. 

In Manhattan, Overwatch would attempt to escort the truck with the EMP devices. Unhindered by any resistence, Reaper would find Lucio. Perhaps nothing would stop him.

The Oni would find himself fighting the traitor. A proper duel now. Though it had been years since he last held a sword, it would come back to him naturally. Each strike quick and powerful, pushing Genji to his limits desite his prosthetics. 

The ogre would devour the sparrow.

As his blade would penetrate Genji's chest, he would hear the pained gurgle from the traitor. With the last bit of strength, Genji would knock the mask off of the Oni. It does not change the monstrosity, human face or not.

 _Hanzo,_ Genji would say, like a defeated sob. _You are a puppet._ Unspoken is the word **again.**

The Oni would kick him off of the katana and slowly approach to finish the job this time.

_I am not angry. It's not your fault--_

When he would slit the traitor's throat, the Oni would be shaken.

Something is still broken inside.

Something never fixed.

 

In his mouth, Hanzo can taste the rain, though it hasn't spilled just yet. In the distance is the rumbling promise of thunder, an incoming storm. Everything is on edge, ready to spill over, and it's only a matter of time. When his eyes open, his hands are clenched, and he frowns to himself.

He feels more lost than ever.

"What did this accomplish?" Hanzo mutters to himself, not looking at Zenyatta. "All that I ever saw were other ways to die or be miserable with my brother!"

Ever patient, Zenyatta says to him, "The visions you witnessed are paths not taken, what could have occurred within your expectations. In each one, did you visualize a future for yourself? For anyone?"

Hanzo frowns and shakes his head quietly. No, not a single one. Either it ended with one of them dead, or both of them without much of anything to build upon or bridge with.

"You are here now, Hanzo. Here, working to rebuild the years lost between you and your brother. Together, you will amount to something wonderful." Zenyatta's voice is soft, and so sure of himself, so sure of _Hanzo._ "You are rediscovering the love that was almost lost between the two of you, and the love you are being given by new relationships of many kinds. What was once gone has been reborn into something new, and you will have the opportunity to form that with yourself, Genji, and whoever you choose to share your life with. Learn to forgive yourself for what was done, as others have long since forgiven you."

Despite whatever frustrations he's had with the monk, Zenyatta is not wrong. Slowly, he is working with his brother to form a bond once again, and he knows all too well how much several of the other members of Overwatch have worked to socialize with him, to make him feel welcome, acts that he still isn't entirely confident with how to accept. And Jesse-- that too. That strange and also difficult matter of the heart.

Hanzo feels raw, exhausted, yet his mind is alarm and ringing.

"You have made wonderful progress. And if you would have me, I would be glad to help you continue to heal," Zenyatta offers gently.

 

-=-=-

 

Eventually, they find their way back to camp. During the trek and even now, Hanzo's legs feel as if they're made of metal, heavy and enduring, forcing him to calculate every step. It is deep into the night, though Hanzo does not know when it is at all. His mind feels like it's been years, but that certainly cannot be true.

Zenyatta tells him to rest, and Hanzo says little in return when he enters his shared tent with Jesse.

"You get the answers you were lookin' for?"

It shouldn't surprise him to see that Jesse is still up, sitting in the tent and drinking one of those ridiculous American beers. But there he is, waiting, not looking irritable or tired, just calm, collected, and complacent. It's something Hanzo envies. Jesse always seems certain of every choice he makes, and Hanzo masquerades it.

The archer sits down next to him. "I don't know," he confesses quietly.

It's quiet between them for a moment. In his peripheral vision, he can tell that Jesse is debating with himself, thinking, the carefully raising his hand, fingers and palm out. Slowly, he reaches, then stops a few inches from Hanzo's face. 

It is an invitation. Jesse demands nothing of him.

With a shudder, Hanzo leans into his palm, pressing his cheek against the warm, rough hand waiting for him. With caution, Jesse rolls his thumb over Hanzo's cheekbone, the contact gentle and comforting.

An urge spikes in Hanzo. That raw sensation inside of him hasn't fled, the humming alertness in his mind. He turns his head, locks eyes with Jesse and gently nips the thumb by his mouth with the edge of his canines before kissing it. He can hear how the action causes Jesse to catch his breath, a subtle noise that could be easily missed by most. 

Everything feels out of control, and Hanzo can't stand it.

When he kisses Jesse this time, it feels like he's stealing the air from him, his teeth finding his lips. In return, there is no aggression from the gunman, and he is given calm complacency and a careful hand still touching the side of his face, callused fingers stroking over his cheekbone. Hanzo manages to not shudder against him, instead holding the front of Jesse's shirt and pulling it free from his trousers, his nails dragging down his stomach.

He hears Jesse breathe harder through his nose, and Hanzo presses into the kiss more viciously as he slips into his lap. With a tilt of his head, bites down on Jesse's lower lip and digs his fingers into his back.

Hanzo is not refused. Cautiously, Jesse leaves himself open as Hanzo takes, tasting him, snorting softly at the flavor of the awful beer. Nimble fingers open Jesse's shirt before finding his chest. While Jesse's hands remain gentle and kind, Hanzo touches him with intent, palms sliding down and fingernails scratching.

" _Ah_ ," Jesse breathes suddenly, jerking out of the kiss when Hanzo's hand cups him between the legs. "Hang on, sweetheart."

That earns a frown from Hanzo, and he draws back slightly. "You don't want to."

"Hey now. Hey." Carefully, Jesse is resting his hand over the archer's, pulling it away gently from his crotch. "Ain't that so much as you're throwin' yourself at me after spending _hours_ in the woods with Zenyatta. Either you missed me real bad -- which I would be very much flattered about -- or somethin' is goin' on."

For a moment, Hanzo remains silent, closing his eyes and considering what to say, if he should say anything. Snatching the moment and embracing something physical seemed a much easier thing to do to curl his fingers into control again, but he knows that Jesse is much smarter than he lets on, able to observe and put things together. The mechanical hand remains on his own, and he feels the skin of Jesse's palm against his cheek.

"I saw... many different things. It was unnerving for me, but I suppose it was necessary." Hanzo lets out a small sigh and opens his eyes, gratefully seeing Jesse being attentive. "I'm used to having control, but if I've been proven anything since joining Overwatch, it is clearly out of my grasp."

A thoughtful look comes across Jesse's face, his brow furrowed as he idly strokes over Hanzo's cheek. Then, he moves himself to sit closer to Hanzo, pausing a moment before he puts his arm loosely around his waist. "That all right?" he asks, clearly seeking permission. Hanzo nods once, giving his consent. " _Control is a fool's game_ , somethin' my pa always said. Only thing y'can do is control what _you're_ gonna do, not everything else around you. And it's easier when y'make that choice with other folk."

"Your father sounds experienced."

"He's a cocky bastard," Jesse says with a bit of a snort before he changes back the subject: "Look, sweetheart, if you wanna do this, _trust me_ I ain't gonna say no. Figure it just might be better that we take our time."

Hanzo snorts. "I am not _fragile._ "

The way that Jesse looks at him is what makes Hanzo hold his breath; his brows are knit, and his eyes are warm with not sign of judgement. He's concerned, and so very caring. "You're also the guy who ain't had much feelings involved in sex, from what you told me." The statement is brutally true, and not any less than what Hanzo has told him. For him, sex had been purely for brief moments of pleasure and never anything lingering and certainly not love, as his father directed. That also meant establishing control, establishing that _he_ was in the one in charge.

He doesn't _need_ to do that with Jesse, and he is a little ashamed to have settled into that habitual mindset.

Instead, Jesse just cracks a smile and says, "I'm gonna treat you right, y'know that don't you?"

"I do." Hanzo hesitates before he says, "I trust you."

"Then there ain't any reason to hurry." There's a careful squeeze around Hanzo's waist. "I sure as hell ain't gonna rush this."

There's a moment in which Hanzo hesitates before he convinces himself to relax. He closes his eyes and leans his head lightly against Jesse's shoulder. There is a certain comfort to having been stopped before anything become more sexual. While he respects Jesse, he's quietly grateful that there's a clear _emotional_ involvement. It feels like a promise.

"C'mon. You had a long as hell day _and_ night. Catch your breath for a spell, Han."

True enough. His mind is still putting everything together, what he'd seen and experienced.

In the end, Hanzo hopes it's enough to encourage the dragons to come forth once again.


End file.
